She stands between the kitchen and the wooden table, slightly turned, her weight resting on one leg as if she has just paused mid-step. Soft daylight spills in from the glass door, warming her cheekbones and collarbone while the shadow under her jaw fades gently. Her dark curls are loosely pinned up, a few strands drifting at her temples; freckles and natural skin texture remain beautifully unhidden. An off-white top falls with small, honest creases, tucked into a deep blue skirt that gathers at the waist and hangs in a calm line. A canvas tote dangles from her hand, worn sandals grounded on the wood floor, and a delicate beaded bracelet catches a quiet glint. On the table, a glass of water sits beside stacked books and a ceramic vase holding a single green leaf—an everyday room holding its breath.
